


Me, Choosing You

by scribble_blog



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Altered Mythology, Badass Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, F/M, Hades and Persephone AU, I MADE IT FOR THE LAST DAY OF, Jason Todd Has Issues, Jasonette July (DCU & Miraculous Ladybug)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:00:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25632481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scribble_blog/pseuds/scribble_blog
Summary: He’d been watching her, of course.Only for the last day. He’d stumbled across her by accident. He’d taken to wandering the upper world when he could- whenever he was lucid, whenever he could do so without hurting anyone.She drew him instinctually. Like a moth to a flame, or sharks to blooded water. He could feel the power swirling off of her, even now as she walked among the women of the tiny village with flowers in her hair and literal Spring in her step.And the growling, twisted, snarled thing in him that had been set loose by the Lazarus Pits knew she was the key.
Relationships: Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug/Jason Todd
Comments: 23
Kudos: 275





	Me, Choosing You

**Author's Note:**

> WELL PEOPLE.
> 
> It took me A literal Month and a Half, but I present to you... something that was SUPPOSED to be 800 words. Which I surpassed by almost a full 15k. 
> 
> Oops.
> 
> Enjoy!

He’d been watching her, of course.

Only for the last day. He’d stumbled across her by accident. He’d taken to wandering the upper world when he could- whenever he was lucid, whenever he could do so without hurting anyone.

She drew him instinctually. Like a moth to a flame, or sharks to blooded water. He could feel the power swirling off of her, even now as she walked among the women of the tiny village with flowers in her hair and literal Spring in her step.

And the growling, twisted, snarled thing in him that had been set loose by the Lazarus Pits knew she was the key. 

  
  
  
  


Marinette gave the sweet child in front of her the last flower that had been caught in her hair, twining it gently around a bouncing curl. “Farewell!”

“Thank you! Thank you, Lady Marinette!” The child bounced on her toes, one hand gently cradling the flower where it rested above her ear and the other fisted in the cloth of her dress. She ran off with the same laughter as the other children as she leaned forward and showed them, the blooming white thing that the goddess had gifted her.

Marinette sighed, turning back to the forest road. Traveling made little work for her, but she’d prefer to be further away before she did, because there was always the chance a human could see her, and the needless loss of life wasn’t what anyone wanted. And there was always so much peace in the forest, and sometimes she would step off the path, let her hands dig into the soil and see what bloomed. With a look around, she darted away, into the shadow of a tree. Her Maman might be looking-

“Marinette.”

“Mother.” Marinette breathed out. Less of a sigh than the simple acknowledgement that she’d once again been caught slipping away.

“I asked you to return by sunset.”

“It isn’t-“ Marinette looked up. It was sunset. She’d spent longer at that village than she thought. They’d been so lovely though, and the flowers had loved springing up in the soft grasses of their meadows. She bit her lip. “I lost track of time.”

Sabine was the goddess of harvest. And Marinette was the goddess of spring. Spring was over, of course, and it was into the summer already, but the joy of new growth could start any time, really. 

Sabine curled a hand around her cheek. “Alright. Stay the night. I know you have new ideas for some night blooming plants.”

Marinette beamed. “Oh, thank you thank you  _ thank you _ !”

Sabine hugged her. “Check in with me in the morning, alright?” 

“Of course, Maman,” Marinette mumbled into her shoulder. And then Sabine was gone again, and Marinette looked around gleefully. 

Should she go and grow the new flower in the little girl’s garden in the town? It seemed a fine blessing; something that would open when the moon rose and glow in its light. But she should grow a few out here first, to make sure she had them right.

She knelt down and found the patch of soil that caught the strongest beams of moonlight as the sun slipped past the edge of the horizon. Her fingers felt through it and the flower burst in front of her, petals untwisting and almost luminescent in the night air.

She let out a soft breath, delighted. It was better than she’d pictured, the flower almost blue in hue when the light shone on it, reflecting the darkening sky above.

“Pretty, but not so much as you.”

She froze, fingers curling gently into the roots before she stood up, leaving it planted firmly. She turned to the new voice.

And found herself looking dizzily upwards into glowing green eyes.

  
  
  
  


She woke up, neck stiff and tongue heavy and her hands curled as if she still held the flower. She pulled herself up and coughed at the dust in the air.

She could feel his gaze on her. The presence, which she’d felt in those last seconds in the clearing, before-

He looked down at her again, but his eyes weren’t glowing anymore, the only color left a blue as unknowable as the sky.

“I know you,” she said in lieu of anything else. 

“Do you,” he said, one side of his mouth pulling down into a disgruntled frown. “Perhaps you might explain why the only time the Madness recedes is when I draw near you, then.” He offered her a hand, but she did not take it, standing on her own. She wasn’t bound, and she wasn’t trapped. They were- not outside, with the air so still around her, but not inside a dwelling, either. As close to neutral ground as you could get, in the domain of the god of the Underworld, she thought, eyes casting about the dry branches and shriveled leaves of the garden around her. 

“The Madness?” She brought her gaze back to him. He scowled. 

“The Pit Madness,” he said, eyes suddenly flowering. She took a step back, watching as the green- no, it didn’t glow- it  _ shined _ , from his eyes, and she found herself trembling,  _ terrified _ . Pit Madness? He crossed the distance between them in a single stride, grabbing her arm and she watched, awestruck, as the green faded the moment he touched her skin. “Why? What does a springtime goddess have to do with the Pits? Answer me!” He shook her arm, and she reacted instinctually.

With a fist.

She heard her own knuckles crack before she felt the pain, but he staggered back and let go of her hand in the process so she didn’t give it thought, she just started running. The first archway she found led into a hallway, and she veered into it, trying desperately to call on the power within her to change, to take her home to her mother or to the village, away-

“Nice try, sweetheart,” Jason grabbed her again, hand clamping against her shoulder. “No, sorry. I can’t let you go until we’ve figured our way out of this.”

“Our way?” Marinette hissed up at him, fists clenched and ready to punch again. She felt something fierce and gleeful when he flinched. “No. You’ve kidnapped me, held me against my will, and put your hands on me. Whatever this is, it’s not  _ our _ problem, it’s just  _ yours _ , and it’s going to stay that way. Now release me or  _ face my wrath. _ ”

  
  
  
  


He blinked down at the goddess. She had spirit, yeah, but this wasn’t- “Listen, I’m- not to be cocky but I’m literally one of the most powerful gods. What the hell can you actually do besides grow a few flowers?”

She flat out growled at him. 

What? 

He wanted to tear his hair out. He kept his hand on her shoulder, tethered, the slipping green fading from the edges of his mind. Here he was, trying to keep himself and therefore the balance of the world from tipping towards insanity and she was upset that he’d taken her through a few cave systems so the whole world couldn’t listen in on the hot gossip that Jason was literally losing his mind to Pit Madness?

And then he yelped, his legs yanked into the air, a vine thicker than his torso holding him aloft. Two more surged forwards, twining up his arms and keeping his hands immobile.

“What the fuck?” He yelled, but she was already running again. He struggled, yanking at the vines and then pulling, desperately as he felt the green in the back of his head, that  _ rage- _

The vine crumbled to ash against his arm and he made quick work of the other two. He kept the Underworld turning, the system running, he balanced the world above as below, and if some springtime goddess thought her feelings were more important than maintaining that, well. He supposed she could frolic with the horrific undead that might escape once he truly lost all grip of his mind to the Pits. He scowled, turning away from where he could  _ feel _ her running, that bright point that soothed the ragged edges of his thoughts. On her head be it.

  
  
  
  


Marinette turned again, desperate. She’d passed two shadow wraiths earlier, spirits that she assumed patrolled the halls after they started chasing her down. She’d used another of the shriveled leaves from the garden, urging it to grow and encase them and it did, and she kept running and turning and  _ hoping _ -

The next door was heavier, and she pulled it open to find herself on a walkway overlooking endlessly stretching fields, roofs cavernous above her and extending beyond comprehension.

And then she tried to take another step, and failed.

The railing was two feet from her hand. She wasn’t that high up, she could leap down, but- her feet- just wouldn’t- 

She dragged herself one more bewildered step, the force pulling her back like agony to her, the fields beckoning and somewhere, she knew there was a river to cross and a way back up, but she couldn’t  _ move _ -

  
  
  
  


Jason let out a deep breath as he tried to move forward. 

Whatever force kept him there felt like thick honey, the motions so straining they weren’t worth it. He took a step back to make sure it wasn’t some sort of paralysis and found himself unfettered, that sticky grasp releasing his movements. 

He tried to step forward again. The step felt momentous and he strained against it, but his foot rose and only came down where he still stood. 

“It’s her,” he mumbled to himself, turning back towards the other end of the palace he wallowed in down here. Can she-?” He paused. If he couldn’t move further from where he presumed she was- could feel she was- then perhaps she couldn’t move any further from  _ him _ , either.

He sat down. She was at the edge of the palace. If she made it much further she’d be out in the fields. He’d be able to tell.

But that feeling, that  _ awareness _ of her didn’t move.

He grinned. Perhaps things might work out after all.

  
  
  
  


Marinette scowled at the wraiths that set the platter before her. Ambrosia, Nectar, various forms for enjoyment rather than sustenances. Smatterings of human foods, rich breads and plump grapes and spreads of nuts, but she ignored them all, even as Jason reached out and snagged a grape. She could practically hear the juice burst from it as the skin split beneath his teeth. 

“So,” he said, as if continuing a conversation. “You can’t leave me.”

“Clearly,” she said as scathingly as she could, pushing the platter away from her, bumping the closest goblet. She watched as it fell in almost slow motion, the clear liquid arcing out and splattering against the table. It dropped off the edge, a slow trickle and then the sound of droplets, slowing as Jason continued to just stare at her.

“Better now that you’ve roughed up my guards and thrown a tantrum about your food?” He said, smug lips quirking into a smile. Marinette wanted to punch him again. 

“I’ll be better when you  _ release _ me, actually,” Marinette said. She didn’t stand. She couldn’t leave. “Perhaps if you put as much effort into breaking your curse as you did kidnapping random goddesses, you’d be free already and you wouldn’t have to hold me hostage.”

“Hostage implies someone else has something I want as ransom,” he said, plucking another grape. He flicked it at her and she caught it inches from her cheek. “And unless you or your Mom can do that- which, sorry, harvest goddess? Don’t think so- no dice. You aren’t kidnapped, or being held hostage, but something- and it isn’t me- wants you here, and I’m sure as hell going to use that to my advantage.”

She watched him take another bite. He hadn’t offered her food, but he wouldn’t, if he wanted her there. Food was a contract unless offered. Sometimes even then. “So you’re not only a creep, you’re an opportunistic creep. Good to know.”

He pointed at her. “You’ve got more to worry about than creeps. The types of forces that can contain gods like you, let alone gods like me are nothing to scoff at.”

“Gods like you?” Her eyes narrowed. “So it wasn’t just me.”

He stiffened in his seat, then relaxed. She could almost see him deciding what to tell her.

“Yeah,” he shrugged, the roll of his shoulders seeming as easy as breathing. “Reached a point where walking any further away from you might have killed me.” He winked, and she rolled her eyes for what felt like the twentieth time since meeting him.

“So we’re both bound, and the best idea we have as to  _ why _ is this curse you’re under.” Marinette felt the intense desire to use some of the curse words she’d heard from mortals. Her mother would blast her into next year’s harvest if she did.

“Sums it up.”

“Then we do research,” Marinette said calmly as she could. There was no way in hell she would trust his word as easily as that, but playing along seemed to be the better suited option than resistance when he could either snap into that green raging energy again or simply decide to sit in one annoying place and keep her on a leash to his direct location.

Except he just blinked at her, as if thrown entirely by the suggestion.

“You wanted help to actually deal with the curse?” She pushed, watching him- squirm? 

“I hadn’t thought about much besides the fact that you being around  _ obviously  _ helps,” he whined. “I’ve got paperwork that’s been piling up and my dog needs-“

“You’ve got a dog?” She perked up immediately, and he snapped back towards her.

“No, no dog, nope-“ 

“You said your dog needs-“

“I  _ don’t- _ “

“Jason.”

He grumbled. “It’s Damian’s dog, he just guards my realm because getting a three headed dog to live underwater is a… challenge.”

She couldn’t help it. She laughed. “You, Jason, Master of the Underworld, you who control the rate at which people of the natural world  _ die- _ “

“It’s a lot less majestic than that and a lot more paperwork, I guarantee,” he griped, and she grinned.

“Regardless, your brother is forcing you to put up his dog because it can’t live underwater?”

“Titus is an important part of the Underworld’s system,  _ thank you _ ,” Jason groaned. “Enough. You wanted to do research or something?”

“You should have been doing research since you knew you were cursed,” Marinette pointed out, “but yes.”

“I did! I found you and you stop the progression of The Pit Madness, I told you!” He stood up, walking to the door. She followed a step behind.

“I swear to my mother if you take me to a library and I find anything, I’ll strangle you.”

“Kinky,” he said with a straight face, and she flushed. 

  
  
  
  


She could feel him moving around his palace as she closed another book. The frustrated pacing, the step away from her that strained even though she wasn’t trying to move away.

With a sigh she pushed it back into its spot on the shelf before gathering her things. And then she set out towards him.

He was leaning on the balustrade, overlooking the fields when she reached him. 

“Thanks,” he said listlessly, and she scoffed.

“Can’t exactly do research when you’re yanking me around every twenty minutes.” She handed him one of the scrolls she’d found. “The Pits are tied to Creation and Destruction, and whatever caused this gave you the short end of the stick.”

He didn’t even open it. “Basic knowledge, Buttercup.”

She grimaced. There wasn’t night or day here, but she felt tired. Drained. “Forgive me for starting from scratch. I’m not exactly millennia old like  _ some _ people.”

“Ah, to be only a few hundred years old, and not bitter and jaded from watching humans evolve,” he muttered, and she watched him stand a bit straighter. “I’m only a single millennia, thank you. And a half.”

She took back the scroll as he offered it. “I can’t decide whether that’s unsurprising given your immaturity and inability to do things on your own.”

“Ouch, Buttercup,” he rolled his eyes. “Take it from me, none of the other gods have it any better. Even B is useless.”

“Your Father presides over the rest of the gods, Jason,” Marinette said, indignant. “He’s not useless.”

“Nope,” he popped the p, eyes watching her with mirth, “trust me, the uselessness is a learned trait. Selina does everything.”

Marinette huffed. “You know, I can’t- why don’t you  _ care _ ?”

His eyes went wide, looking down at her. “Excuse me?”

“Your curse,” She crossed her arms, looking up at him, standing between him and the palace. “You kidnapped me-“

“I did not-“

“You  _ kidnapped me _ ,” Marinette raised her voice, staring daggers into his eyes, her tone fierce, “and you said I was the only thing that could help and here I am, doing the only thing I can  _ think _ of to help and you just- wander aimlessly and poke fun and you don’t care! Pit Madness will consume you, and you’re just-“ she gestured angrily at him. “Lounging!”

  
  
  
  


He stared down at her, dumbstruck. Because in all honesty, he’d been- expecting her not to care? Which, fair, he’d not exactly done things the proper way, but still. 

“I’m just enjoying being able to think clearly again,” he shrugged it off. “Haven’t really has the chance in the last few years or so, but with you here-“

She gave him a look, and he stopped. Something was familiar about that glare. He shook it off. “I didn’t honestly expect you to want to help.”

She gripped the edge of the railing tightly. “If it will get me away from you faster,” she deadpanned, but he could see something in her eyes that was- covered. What reason did she have for choosing to help him?

“It’s more than that, he said, leaning over the edge again and turning away from her. “But don’t worry, I’m not going to press you on it.”

“No, you just draw the line at abduction.” He heard her turn away after that parting shot. “Try to stay closer, will you? I can’t concentrate when you’re doing your best to drag me via curse out of the library.”

He grinned, already turning around.

“And if I see your face  _ in _ the library, I’ll shove a vine so deep down your throat, you’ll be shitting it for weeks.”

He gaped, entirely thrown off. “Excuse me?”

She didn’t even answer, which, in his opinion, was  _ rude _ , but he honestly didn’t want to continue questioning the girl after that.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


The blankets had her tangled as she woke gasping, her legs caught in the fabric as she kicked it away.

She tossed herself to the other side of the bed, where the pillow was still cool and she hadn’t created a Marinette-shaped warm spot on the blankets. The cold fabric soothed her, but she wanted- an open window. A breeze. To see the moon shine or stars twinkle and know it was Nino who waved down at her.

The air here was so  _ stagnant _ . 

She sat up, desperately thirsty. The knowledge that she was trapped down here with no way to eat that wouldn’t tie her to the Underworld irrevocably- it didn’t matter that she didn’t need to eat, excepting the occasional imbibing of nectar and ambrosia. No way to call to her mother, who would have surely discovered her missing by now. No way to go home. 

The stone floor was cold and smooth beneath her bare feet, the torches in the hall still glowing with the last of their lights. If she wasn’t going to be resting, she might as well-  _ do _ something. She trailed along, one hand resting against the plain walls.

Jason was stationary, likely in bed as well. She made a mental note of which direction he was in and started going the other way. 

He’d put her in a room not too far from the library, and she retraced her steps now, taking the next left turn, and finding the doors that led into it. The lights had all been left to smoulder, and it cast everything in the dullest orange, shining against the dark stone.

She found the garden again next, and after mentally checking that Jason had not moved, she gleefully set to work. The whole place was overgrown and dried, brittle twigs snapping under her fingers as she carefully prodded a bush back to budding, trimming off what was irreparable and coaxing the rest to some measure of life again.

She wasn’t sure after how long she’d spent in the garden, moving from plant to plant, from the rough grass that still managed to poke through the soil to the sage bushes, to the trees along the southern wall, pomegranate and apple and fig. Those would take more concerted effort, to bring back to fruiting.

Jason was still- still. She hadn’t noticed him move once. She wondered if he was actually asleep, if he actually was doing something that required him to be so unmoving. Maybe it’s where his personality came from.

She bit her lip and then found the door, walking towards him. If he were awake, surely he could feel her? He’d know anyway, and she could say she was restless and exploring and he would just wave her off. 

And if it was something she wasn’t supposed to know, then- well. She had the spot pretty firmly fixed in her mind. If he came to stop her, she’d come back, another time. 

There was a firmer feeling of unusedness as she walked, the hallways just a bit dustier, the lights a bit more unkempt. She grinned, because this definitely did not feel like a wing that would contain bedrooms. It could be an unloved section that was made obsolete by preferred paths, ones that led by the balconies, or the gardens, or the library. She stopped, sensing him. Still there. Mystifying. He hadn’t so much as twitched in her awareness, despite her drawing ever closer.

She finally found the door. He was on the other side, in the room. She was, with full confidence, sure that it wasn’t a bedroom. It was worse here, dust and cobwebs, the whole smell of it musty and almost sour. Whatever he was doing, she was fully prepared to make fun of him for doing it somewhere that  _ stank _ .

She opened the door and froze. 

She could see him standing there, the green light spilling from the edges of his closed eyes. He was facing the right wall, carved lines depicting some woodland scene in harsh relief, his face blank and facing almost through it.

He wasn’t awake. And whatever pulled his sleeping form here, it was driven by the Madness. 

She hesitated, looking at him. He could- attack, right? That’s what Pit Madness  _ did _ . But if she was truly helping it…

She took the few steps up to his side, and grabbed his arm, gently. He didn’t react, but she could see the light fading from the creases of his eyes, where tears would leak through, dissipating and leaving them in nothing but the dim grey of the dark room, the sputtering firelight of the hallway barely reaching them.

And then, he fell, as if held by strings suddenly cut.

She lunged to keep him from hitting the floor, grateful now for her strength, and managed to soften the fall. The idiot didn’t even wake up. 

She looked at him, down on the floor, and carefully disentangled her arm, watching for the return of the green. It didn’t seep back in like she feared, so she stepped away. And further, fear and confusion welling up in her like a flood, and she found herself running as she went back to her room, choking on the stagnant air.

She didn’t care about him and his sickness beyond what it meant for the world, and she wasn’t going to- to help him, like this, not when he’d kidnapped her-

Well, she’d seen it now. The Madness fled at her touch.

Could she really blame him? When what he faced was so excruciating?

She did not let a tear fall, but she curled up in her bed, gasping for breath, desperately trying to gulp in enough air to fill her lungs, feeling utterly drowned in everything. It was- she could feel sleep, unconscious encroaching on her mind, and she blissfully let it, sinking away from everything that had happened.

Her last thought was of her mother, and how worried she would be.

  
  
  
  


Surely, Marinette would be in the village. Right?

Sabine had searched every inch of the forest, every meadow and glen. She’d found the flower, she knew Marinette had been there, last night, she’d-

She took a deep breath. Her daughter would be in the village, having unthinkingly slept there and slept in, leaving Sabine to worry for the second time in as many days. Sabine fathered her presence, letting each step bless the little town her daughter was so fond of. Their crops would be doubled this year, their gardens teeming with food.

The village elder met her, babbling gratefulness, and Sabine let her, listening with a half smile until she could politely ask, “where is my daughter?”

The elder looked- confused. She’d left last night, and hadn’t returned, she offered. They were grateful, for the two goddesses care and favor. 

Sabine could feel herself burning. Her daughter was gone. Her daughter was gone. She left the elder, without a goodbye, gathering herself and walking back out to the woods. 

“Marinette,” she called, her voice harder than she’d ever spoken to her daughter, more calculating than she’d let herself be in years. Sabine may have been the goddess of the harvest but there was a heavier mantle, a colder goddess that she had once been before- 

Well, before. 

“Marinette,” she called again, softly. She knew there would not be an answer. Could tell that her daughter hadn’t been here the way she had once been able to tell Bruce where he should spring his traps, how to outwit his foes. 

Strategy had its place in war, after all, and she had not only wielded it but lived it, had helped him to take down R’as at the beginning of the world. Had come back, to destroy Talia, right before she had met Tom. 

She looked to the horizon, her eyes like fire.

  
  
  
  


Marinette had been there for a week, but she was still disappointed it had taken this long to go and meet Titus. She’d put her foot down that morning though, after hitting a dead end in the library the day before. Everything in there was- fascinating, she could sit and read for hours even if the worlds balance didn’t depend on it, but three separate avenues for curse breaking had…  _ not  _ planned out, and she was getting frustrated.

“Oh, what a  _ good  _ puppy!!”

“He’s the watchdog of the eternal dwelling of the dead, not a  _ pet _ ,” Jason said petulantly. 

“He’s a good boy is what he is,” Marinette scarab he’d one chin, and then another, and then another. “Oh, what a smart good boy, guarding the gates all day. I bet Jason  _ never  _ comes and plays, huh?”

“I don’t have  _ time _ ,” the god whined, and Marinette grinned. 

“Well, you’re here now and since I’m not leaving, neither are you.” Titus’ heads fought to be in her lap, which was adorable except that each head was easily the size of her, so he really just completely bowled her over. “Come give Titus some love, maybe it’ll make you less insufferable.”

He grinned back this time, and she actually had some hope for the poor god, stuck down in the Underworld by himself with only the shadow wraiths and damned souls for company. 

“He is a good dog,” Jason said, almost like the words were being wrung from him, involuntary. “I just never get out of my office to visit him.” He scratched behind one heads ear, watching as the whole body shook, Marinette still trapped under the other two heads.

“I don’t even know what takes you so long with that paperwork,” Marinette shoved one head towards him so she could focus on petting the left head, letting it be his turn to get bowled over, covered in slobber, his hands desperately trying to ward them off but he was laughing even as he protested. 

“You should be the goddess of paperwork, not spring,” he griped, wiping a truly tremendous amount of dog slobber from his cheek. “You know, I was working on that case for two weeks? And you just waltz right in, point out the single discrepancy, and then launch straight back into curses.”

“The fates made a typo on his death,” Marinette shrugged. “Not my fault you didn’t notice it said year 726 instead of 126.” 

“The man stayed alive an extra thirty-four years,” Jason muttered. “Typo.”

There wasn’t a sun down here, but somehow the light seemed to filter in some places more than others. Marinette could feel the phantom of it on her shoulders, rolling them as she scritched at Titus. “Have you woken up there again?”

He looked at her, and she raised one eyebrow, practically reading on his face that he was debating pretending not knowing what she was talking about. After finding him there the first night she’d asked him if he sleepwalked often, and he’d been- well, he’d actually stiffened up and told her to mind her own business. But Marinette was practically incapable of that, especially when she was stuck in his house. Palace. Whatever. The garden was hers now.

“No.” He finally said. “Whatever it is, about you being here- it’s helping. I used to wake up in that room almost every other night.”

She hummed, thinking, the train of it too abstract to put into words. Her fingers dug into the soil as she did, small green buds popping out. She still wanted to leave, to- she missed the sunlight, and the village, her plants and her mother.

But she had no idea what would happen if she tried. And sometimes- sometimes she didn’t want to try.

As much as it pained her to admit, even to herself, Jason was, if not someone she would have befriended on her own, someone she did not mind being forced into this odd bond with. There could have been worse people. At least he was occasionally funny, most of his social blunders- like _ kidnapping her _ \- were either from the Pit Madness or his overwhelming lack of socialization stuck down in the Underworld, with the exceptions of his brothers, who he implied visited solely when they felt like being nuisances.

Of course, she was still stuck. And Jason was still sick. And she couldn’t just leave. 

She pulled the middle head back over from Jason, running her hands through the fur.

“Some guard dog,” she teased. “One scratch behind his ears and he’d let anyone through.”

“He  _ has _ ,” Jason grumbled. “I’ve had a few heroes come down here for favors, or to try to find someone’s soul and bring it back, and he just-“

Titus’s body collapsed between them, all three heads panting with joy.

“That.” Jason made a face of mock disgust. “Absolutely the worst slacker on the payroll.”

“Thought that was you,” Marinette grinned. “Alright, come on, we’ve been here two hours.”

“Two  _ hours _ ?” Jason yelled, scrambling out from under Titus. 

“A well deserved break.” Marinette have each head some final pets, kissing each nose. “Be a good boy, huh, Titus? I’ll make sure he comes back to visit you.” She would try. Jason leaned down behind her, gathering something, but when she turned around he held nothing.

“Let’s just go,” Jason said tiredly, offering her his arm. She took it gratefully, allowing him to travel them both back to the palace instantaneously.

“I’ll leave you to your work then,” she promised, letting go and already turning back to the library. She wasn’t expecting his hand to grab hers.

“Marinette,” he said, eyes burning into her even though they were the normal blue, and not the green. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome?” She said, but he was already walking away. She looked down at her hand, and found the slightly crumpled flowers that must have burst to life while her thoughts ran free.

Buttercups.

  
  
  
  


“Marinette-“ 

She looked up, sure for half a moment that she had heard Jason’s voice. The library was empty, and she could sense him, halfway across the palace, practically as far as he could be, but running closer. Running fast.

And then the door opened.

She felt like she should recognize him better, but her mother had kept her far from the other gods, protective and worried over her. But there was almost a resemblance, less in the features, and more in how they held themselves.

“Your Mother has called for your return.” Bruce said, his first words to her. Marinette sized him up, her mind racing. 

She should have known. She hadn’t thought of her mother at all except that first night, she’d let herself get caught up in everything, in the research and in hating Jason, and then in a very quick turnaround, sometimes being able to stand him, and she’d never thought of her mother. For two weeks, she’d forgotten her mother.

“I’m afraid, my Lord,” Marinette rose, bowing to him, less reverential and more a practical acknowledgement of his status, “that I cannot go back at this time.”

“Excuse me?”

Looking into his eyes, she knew that he was very unused to being told no. She did it again. “I’m unable to return to my mother, my Lord. In fact, right now? I don’t want to. I do hope that you’ll give her my apologies.”

Bruce walked closer to her, sizing her up now too. She wasn’t sure she appreciated the way he frowned at whatever he found. “Marinette, I’ve already spoken to Jason. I’m aware that he- unorthodoxly invited you here, and that you haven’t really been able to leave, and that he forgot to invite you to eat-“

“Is there anything you  _ aren’t _ aware of, my Lord?” Marinette smiled. It had taken her two days to actually complain about that to Jason, who had promptly flushed and offered her food, so unused to people that he’d forgotten that had she eaten without invitation it would have bound her here. She swept her skirts to the side and moved to stand in front of Bruce. “Because I think that if you actually knew everything- and whether that is a failing on Jason’s part to tell you, or on yours to listen, I know not- then you would be begging me to stay exactly where I am.”

Bruce face shut down, the frown solidified to a pointed scowl. “What do you mean.”

Marinette handed home one of her scrolls. “I’m glad you’re here, because if I’m going to actually figure out how to fix this, I’m going to need to know. How exactly did Jason come into contact with the Lazarus Pits? He won’t tell me beyond that it happened fighting beside you.”

Bruce looked so thrown, she almost wanted to laugh. “The Lazarus Pits?”

“Green shining water, power beyond measure, the cause of the Pit Madness affecting your son?” 

Every word she spoke made him recoil further and she didn’t really revel in it, but it was entertaining.

“Your son has the Pit Madness, Lord Bruce,” Marinette said firmly. Jason was almost there. “For some reason, my presence has been lessening the effects of it, and it’s forced us into a bond of some sort that won’t let us move farther away from each other. I’ve been doing my best to research into what might break him from it, but he’s been obstinate, especially about telling me how the curse was gained.”

She could feel Jason, running down the hallway, seconds away.

Bruce straightened. “I-“ His face twisted. “I will return, Marinette.”

He turned, brushing her off and exiting the room as Jason reached the hallway, coming face to face with his father.

“We will speak about the Pit Madness, Jason,” Bruce said, words almost cold. Marinette could hear the fear in them. And then he brushed past his son and was gone.

Jason turned to her. “You told Bruce?” He lashed out, his voice shaking. “About the Pit Madness?”

“Yes,” Marinette said, coldly. “I’m barely making any progress, and I actually  _ would  _ like to leave eventually, so-“

“Of course,” Jason scoffed. “You realize he could have probably broken the bond holding you here, right? And then you’d be free to traipse off on your merry way, growing more flowers-“

“Excuse me?” Marinette yelled. “If I wanted to leave-“

“-you’ve just been trying to leave this whole time-“ he cut her off, yelling now.

“-you literally kidnapped me!” She yelled back, hitting the desk with both hands. The scrolls she’d been reading hit the floor with dull thuds, masked by their words.

“You’re the only-“

“-thing that helps, yes I know,” she leaned forward over the desk, and she clutched at the front of her dress with desperate hands, “-DONT I GET A CHOICE?”

She had practically screamed the last words, and she could see him recoil now, could feel the tracks on her face that meant tears had fallen, could feel him withdrawing and shutting down.

“Are you-“ he said, voice half strangled. 

“I mean-“ she said at the same moment, her eyes stuck on his cool blue, and trying so desperately to figure out how this had escalated so far.

“I just thought-“

“I didn’t-“ She tried again, their words crossing over each other, each of them stopping. She shut her mouth, waiting.

“You wouldn’t have chosen me.” He said, face strangely blank.

She drew herself up, livid. “This isn’t about you. Not everything is about you.”

“Alright, then,  _ talk _ ,” he spat. “What’s it about?”

“I don’t owe you an explanation.” She said sharply. “I don’t owe you anything.”

“No,” he said, just as coldly. “I suppose you don’t.”

He stalked out, and she fell back into her chair, exhausted, feeling him prowl at the edge of her senses, at the edge of their bond when he reached it. She was glad, really, that he’d gotten himself as far away from her as possible, because she really didn’t want to know what she might have done if he’d stayed, provoking her further-

Further-

She felt him strain against the bond, felt him take one step and then another and another and she couldn’t  _ move  _ for the tension trying to pull her back towards him-

She felt something snap. Not the connection.

Jason.

She threw herself forward, over the desk, ignoring the clatter of things she’d struck to the floor as she tore out the door, racing down the hallways, terrified and-

He was standing tight where his last step had left him, breathing hard and she moved forwards carefully, stepping soft.

He shook, hands clenching so tightly she could see his veins, dark against his pale skin. When his eyes opened, the blue was gone.

He lunged.

She threw herself to the side, scrambling to her feet, the balustrade catching her as she stumbled. He’d already steadied himself and she could see him, ready to reach for her and she didn’t know, he didn’t feel like Jason anymore in her mind, the sickening green swirling off of him not just as an energy but visibly, vividly, like he was burning up from the inside with it.

Her vine caught his hand and gave her just enough time to duck away from its path before he broke free, and then she was in front of him, and she wasn’t sure how it worked or why she helped but she grabbed him and held, hoping her attempt wouldn’t be rewarded with being struck down by this- shell.

But it worked. She felt his arm drop, felt his muscles relax and his form sway, as he collapsed against her. He wasn’t- she checked his face, seeing his eyes, closed in what looked like pain.

She couldn’t carry him anywhere and she didn’t know how to summon the servants as he did, so she lowered him to the floor, never losing her touch against his arm, moving him until she held his head in her lap. This would be easiest when he came to, and she counted the seconds, wondering if when Bruce said return, he meant immediately or just soon-

“Marinette?” Jason said groggily, and his hand reached up, fingertips brushing against her cheek. She swallowed. 

“I’m here,” She said, one hand moving to capture his and lower it back down. “Don’t move too much, that-“

“I’m fine,” he shook his head, trying to sit up even as she tried to keep him down. “I’m fine, see?”

She gaped. “You literally just  _ collapsed  _ from  _ Pit Madness _ .”

He made his way upright, facing her as they both sat on the balcony. He still had her hand, wrapped in his. “Yeah, but you’re the good luck charm for those, remember?” He lifted their hands and she yanked hers back, fighting down a blush. 

“I’ll be in my garden, when Bruce returns,” she snapped, rising to her feet and striding away, not turning back.

If she had she might have stopped. Might have had to take his hand again and be sincere, and told him that she had felt him disappear into the Madness for that moment, and that she’d suddenly been so  _ terrified _ . 

She thought that he might have been- gone. Forever. And that brief moment had made her realize very suddenly that she did not want to lose him. Did not want to leave him.

  
  
  
  


Jason sat, on his knees on the balcony, staring at where she had walked away. He was glad for that iron will of hers, and the spite that kept her from turning around, because he was so entirely certain that if she had seen his face in that moment the game would be up and she would know.

He hadn’t tried to like her. He hadn’t even wanted to, really, but she’d snuck her way into being liked even on the first day, before he’d realized he should probably guard his heart from her, before he realized she would be so very easy to-

To fall in love with.

Yeah, oops.

He stood up, his mind going a mile a minute. Bruce would return, and then-

There was no and then. Jason could feel him return, like a stormcloud on the horizon, someone by his side that he never thought he would see again.

“I don’t care about the Pit Madness.” Sabine was practically yelling at his father, seething rage rolling off every word. “You will unbind my daughter and she will come  _ home. _ ”

“It’s not quite that simple,” Bruce was saying.

“Sabine?” Jason called out. He hadn’t seen the goddess since- well, since Talia had been taken down. Since he’d fallen into the Pit.

The goddess of strategy and bountiful victory looked at him with baleful eyes. “You. Where is my daughter, what have you  _ done  _ with her-“

“Sabine.” Bruce cut her off harshly. “I told you, I brought you here to talk. Marinette said she wanted to stay-“

“My baby has been held captive by your son for two weeks, starved and bound and-“

“Sabine!” This time, Bruce yelled back. “I will not allow you to continue. I will unbind Marinette from him, but it will be  _ her choice-“ _

At that moment, Jason could feel the world shift, like an axis turning in his soul. Something irrevocably changed.

Bruce’s face was hard and unreadable, but Jason could see he’d felt it too. And understood it.

And then Sabine fell to her knees, letting out a heartbroken wail, and Jason knew what Marinette had done.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Marinette could hear the yelling, coming from the front halls. She could feel Jason, the roiling mass of sickly green energy that called to her, near the sounds. Drawing closer.

Her mother wouldn’t take no for an answer, of course. Not even from Marinette’s own lips. Bruce would be fair, and with the exact timeline of events already cleared up, by Jason’s own admission kidnapped and held hostage, fair was cutting loose whatever energy bound them if he could and letting her mother take her home. 

Her own stomach revolted at the thought. Not fifteen minutes ago, Jason had been unconscious in her lap because of the curse. And she was the only thing tethering him.

She looked around desperately. In her two weeks the garden had shifted from the creeping fingers of dead branches to a few bright blooms and more unusual, twisted shapes. And of the few trees, only one would do.

She walked up to the pomegranate tree, shivering though the Underworld never seemed to shift in temperature. She’d seen them on Jason’s platters in the last few days, so she knew there must be-

She plucked the fruit, digging her nails in and cracking it open with her hands. She ignored the red juice that dribbled around her fingers, dripping to the stones below her feet.

The Underworld was a contract. Everything in it- the pleasures and the tortures and even the monotony of limbo, for those souls hovering in the endless fields. But she wasn’t just taking; she’d grown this tree to bearing fruit in the two weeks, and those fruits had been harvested and eaten by the very Master of this domain. 

And that meant that the Underworld owed  _ her _ , too.

She picked out a handful of the almost crystalline pomegranate seeds, and without pausing, tossed them into her mouth.

The whole Underworld seemed to quiet for the barest moment. She could feel it around her, the pulse and the shift of spirits in the plains, the wraiths that patrolled corners of the palace so diligently, the way each creeping tunnel twisted.

And then she heard the world shatter with her mother’s wail.

  
  
  
  


“Do you understand what you’ve done?” Bruce said to her, face grave.

Marinette was still holding half of the pomegranate, the juice having left a dripping trail down the halls she had walked to meet them. Her mother was crumpled into a chair, and had not looked at her once. She could feel the edges of the Fields, could feel the rolling hills of Elysium and the edges of Tartarus, where the souls chained to their punishments fluttered raggedly against her awareness. She met his eyes.

“I assume you mean this,” she lifted the fruit to her face, picking out another seed and lifting it to her lips. The taste was sharp and sweet against her tongue. “I’ve claimed the Underworld as Home. For six months out of the year, at least.”

Jason hadn’t looked at her yet either, but her Mother finally lifted her face, eyes red with tears and so  _ accusatory _ . “I gave you life and protected you. This is my repayment?”

Marinette reached back towards Tartarus, toward the coldness she saw in Jason’s eyes sometimes, letting it envelop her. Now he looked up, watching with something curious in his eyes.

“Maman,” she said, voice heavy. “This had nothing to do with you.”

The room remained weighted with their silence, all three of them staring at her.

“My father baked bread,” she delivered the blow softly. “He was a humble baker with a warm hearth and the kindest heart you’d ever met. And all of your love could not convince him to stay. He chose to stay mortal, to be human, because he thought that was his place in our world. This is my choice. This is my place.” She walked forward, taking her mother’s hands, which hung limply in hers, the gesture unacknowledged. “Don’t you feel the way I fit here?”

That was true. It was something Marinette had been fighting with every step in these halls, every night bloom and bramble she teased to growth in this garden. The way she had sat at Jason’s side not half an hour earlier, held his head in her lap and watched the green fade from his eyes.

“Marinette,” Bruce said, and she squeezed her mothers hand before letting go. “Allow me to unbind you.”

“Will it hurt him?” She tilted her head towards Jason, who’s eyes still tracked her silently. 

“No,” Bruce shook his head. “It should undo the tether only, and allow you to move further from each other. To what extent, I’m not sure, but far enough that you can return above ground.”

“Do it,” Jason said, and Marinette reluctantly nodded her assent. And then she could feel it dissolve between them, the cord that kept them tied. 

“Do not think I will forget this,” Sabine spoke up from her chair. “Bruce, you  _ owe _ me.”

“Maman,” Marinette said. “I love you. But right now, you need to go.” She turned to Bruce. “Both of you.”

“Of course,” Bruce bowed his head, and Marinette sent them away with a thought, almost laughing at the half second of surprise she’d seen on Bruce’s face before he’d disappeared.

And then she’d turned to Jason.

“I can’t feel you anymore,” he said, and she realized that she could still feel him. Green energy. She shook the thought away.

“You shouldn’t have said yes,” she said instead. “You don’t know that this won’t hurt you- you literally just-“

He opened his mouth. “I-“

“No.” She glared him into closing it. “Earlier you stretched the bond so far that I felt  _ you shatter _ , in my mind. You’re being foolish.”

“You wanted out,” he shrugged, and she almost saw red. 

“I want you to be safe and sane!” She shouted. “I want you to not have to keep me in your pocket so you don’t lose yourself to the Pit Madness!”

“I didn’t ask you to.” He didn’t move, barely even looked at her. It infuriated her. She strode up to him, and wrenched his face down to hers by the fabric of his shirt.

“You said I didn’t choose you?” She seethed, voice low. She felt manic, felt like if he looked in her eyes he might see exactly how  _ angry _ she was. Felt like it might scare both of them to acknowledge it. “This is me, choosing you, Jason. You don’t get to tell me no. You don’t get to act like it’s your fault I’m here anymore. You don’t get to leave me.”

She didn’t quite mean for that to slip out, and from the way his eyes widened and  _ finally _ turned to hers he didn’t either. But she wasn’t taking it back. 

She let him go. Stepped back. Took a breath. 

“I’ll be in the library, researching,” she said. “Perhaps, once you’re done wallowing, you’d like to join me.”

And as she found she often did, she turned and walked away from him yet again, desperately fighting against the blush and her erratic heartbeat. But this time, she found a new thing she had to beat away from escaping. Tears.

  
  
  
  


She was glad, that night, that he’d told her he couldn’t feel her anymore. She didn’t want to question too deeply why she could still feel him-

No, she knew why. Because it wasn’t him she was feeling anymore. She couldn’t feel Jason, just like he couldn’t feel her. But she could still sense the Madness. She supposed it might be because of whatever in her soothed it, but she wasn’t exactly sure how to find out  _ why _ .

But her gut had led her here.

She stared at the carved stone wall. The stone glade was strikingly similar to the one she had been in when this started, though she thought that most glades looked just as picturesque. A man and a woman sat in the dappled shadows, lovingly conveyed through delicate paint. They looked happy. 

But now that she couldn’t feel Jason, she could sense it. Somewhere behind this wall, below it? Further- she could sense that same green.

But how to reach it?

She started feeling the curves of stone, pressing leaves and the whorls in trees. Anything that might hide a trigger. The girls in the village had loved to talk about secret doors such as this- things hidden in plain sight. Things you’d find in myths and legends and stories. 

Well, she  _ was  _ a goddess. 

Her finger caught on the waves of the woman’s hair, and she traced it, wondering who they were. And then, her finger catching against it, she pressed on the earring barely peeking out from it.

She felt the slight give, but nothing happened. She stared at the earring, disappointed beyond words. 

“No,” she said out loud. “No, that’s- there’s something else.”

She started examining the rest of the woman, hoping illogically that the angle of her head would change and allow her to press the other earring, but that obviously wouldn’t happen. It was on the man that she saw the ring, and she gleefully pressed it, and then both of them together when it did nothing.

And then the door behind her shut.

She tensed and looked around, but there was no Jason, the green she could sense from him firmly back in the palace proper. No shadow wraiths. No one else. And when she looked back at the wall, it was opened.

One of the trees had popped open along the seams of its carved trunk. She felt the air flowing first, made sure it wasn’t toxic smelling or anything other than stuffy and musty cave air. 

Stagnant, like the rest of the air here.

She opened it and stepped in, summoning a light. The craggy opening was slim and seemed not to widen much, but it was room enough for her. She walked in. 

She wasn’t sure how long she'd been scraping her way between tunnels when it all fell out from under her feet. She was free falling, scraping against rock, she gasped as one jagged ledge ripped against her arm but she curled tighter until she hit the floor.

She groaned, uncurling to check her arm, and she saw him.

She saw the green first, the way it bubbled around the floor, the sinkhole in the center lighting the entirety of the space around them. And sitting before it was a crouched shadow, one hand dragging idly through the liquid. 

She didn’t say anything. If touching it gave you the Curse, then-

“I’d wondered if you would make it here,” they said, calmly. She untensed her shoulders, her hands still clenched tightly. 

The form shook their hand as they took it from the pit, shaking off the beads of water and then turning, offering the hand to her. She could see the bright green of his eyes, but not glowing, not like she’d seen Jason. His eyes were just the same green, without the background glow that alerted her to the Madness. “I’m Adrien,” he said, taking his hand back when she did not move forward. He wiped it on his shirt, and she could see the small flecks of wetness from whatever had lingered on his skin.

“Marinette,” she said. “Why are you here.”

He smiled at her, lips curling into a smirk. “Same reason as you, my Lady. I’m just a bit earlier.”

The green reflected across the cave walls, shining in his blonde hair. He watched her.

“Why aren’t you Mad,” she said next, taking a step towards him. 

“Can you say I’m not?” He tilted his head, and she watched the careful movement with suspicion. “I’m the god of this place, after all.”

“I can’t feel you.”

She couldn’t. There was no divine presence in him, no spark that evidenced the implied power of the pits. 

“And I can’t feel you,” he murmured. “The god of this place used to be named Plagg, just as the goddess of creation used to be named Tikki. I’d look into it, if I were you.” He turned away, sitting back down, his hand returning to the water where he swirled it, creating small waves to lap against the rocks. The sound folded around the cave, hypnotic. 

“I’m leaving,” Marinette said, taking a step back. She could climb the wall and make it back to the tunnel, she was sure of it. Her scraped hands were already healed over, the traces of her blood leaching into the air and evaporating. The blonde didn’t react.

She turned and climbed as fast as she could, letting the cuts reopen in her haste rather than spend another moment with the sickening feeling of the pit washing over her skin. It crawled, feeling warm and cool and hot all at once.

She ran faster, in the tunnel, turning around and checking with every slight sound and echo to make sure he had not followed. When she made it to the door she slammed it, and it clicked, and she hoped he would not be able to open it from the other side.

Of course, if he was a god, it wouldn’t matter anyway. But the illusion made her feel better.

She locked the door with a thought as she left, and when she made it back to her bed she collapsed into it gratefully.

She dreamed of nothing.

  
  
  
  


Marinette slammed the scroll shut, frustrated beyond belief. There was no mention of a Tikki, or a Plagg, and when she’d asked Jason he’d shrugged, saying he hadn’t ever heard of them either. And everything she checked turned up- nothing.

“So you’re Marinette?” A voice broke her from the endless cycle of scrolls and she looked up to see yet another dark haired man, leaning against the doorway.

He looked cheerier than both his brother and father, at least.

“Yes,” she said, trying not to let her anger spill over on him. “And you’re- Richard?”

“Dick,” he smiled, walking in and leaning over the desk, meeting her eyes a foot away from her face. “You know, I always said Jason had a problem with girls, but I was  _ not _ an advocate for the ‘steal one’ approach, I promise.”

Dick- Richard- who watched over the skies. She’d heard Alya and Nino talk about him, she’d realized, though she hadn’t realized given that Jason had been calling him Richard the entire time he referred to his brother.

Which, judging by his hasty correction, was a very specific plot to annoy him. And it had worked.

“I think we’re all rather past the whole ‘stealing’ thing,” Marinette waved a hand breezily. “Really, I’d rather people  _ stopped talking about it _ .”

Dick held up his hands, backing off slightly. “Apologies, my Lady. Didn’t mean to offend.”

“Oh no, I think you did,” Marinette stood up, grabbing the next scroll. “But I think you might have been trying to offend Jason. And I’d really rather that not happen either.”

“Grouchy these days, is he?” Dick asked, following her easily as she left the room, heading towards the office she knew Jason likes to work in. “Not that he doesn’t have reason, but-“

Marinette spun, pointing a finger into Dick’s chest. “I’m not sure why you’re here, but if it’s to bother me when I’m trying to save your brother,  _ please _ , save your breath.”

Dick looked at her consideringly. “Well, it might have been, just a little bit. But I also wanted to see if there’s anything I can do to help.”

She put her finger down. “If you’ve got any information on the pits, or beings named Tikki and Plagg, I’d love that. But otherwise, we’re dealing with something older than the gods, so I’d thank you not to disturb me and especially not to upset Jason, unless you’ve got a death wish or the ability to stop the Madness, like I can.”

She was grateful, in retrospect, that Jason was the first of the royal family- so to speak- that she’d met, because she was learning that he was, by far, the surliest. Everyone else seemed easy to deal with so far, after two weeks with him.

“I don’t know about any beings,” Dick said consideringly, “but what I can do is start asking around for you, since from what I’ve heard, you don’t intend on leaving the underworld quite just yet.”

Marinette rolled her shoulders, coming to a stop as she heard the raised voices behind Jason’s door.

Dick winced. “Also, Damian came with me.”

She opened the door to find a very familiar picture. Except in her experience, it was usually her standing over Jason and shouting about something, and not the powerful but surprisingly small god of the oceans.

“I knew you were a fool, Jason, but I never took you for an  _ idiot _ ,” Damian was finishing scathingly. Jason tore his eyes away from his brother to look back at her, and stood from his chair.

“Nope, I’ve got it on good authority that I’m both,” he stretched, and Damian’s eyes narrowed, indignation at being swept aside evident. 

“Your brothers are nuisances,” she said outright to Jason. “But somehow they’re still more helpful than you.”

She got three distinct outraged voices of dissent.

“I need older works,” she continued past them. “Or, you know, to  _ actually know how this happened _ so I can research the curse and not just the Lazarus Pits.”

Jason’s face shut down the way it usually did when she asked how it happened. But both Dick and Damian turned towards him as well, which she found curious. She’d been assuming it had happened during the storied fight against Talia and Ra’s, but they had both been present. So how could it have happened without them knowing?

“You should be more respectful,” Damian scowled at her. “We’re-“

“Gods?” Marinette smiles at him. “I’m a goddess! Nice to meet you.”

She watched his jaw drop, and turned back to Jason, voice flat. “I’m only hitting dead ends. So either help me, or find me someone who can.”

“Well, you keep alienating them,” Jason said, amusement clear on his face as he pointed towards Dick and Damian. “You could stand to actually welcome people to your  _ home _ , instead of running them over to yell at me.” 

She crossed her arms. “Niceties aren’t going to stop you from losing your mind. If me being grumpy is enough to convince them not to do everything they can to help their brother, that sounds like it’s  _ your _ problem.”

“Woah,” Dick stepped in. “Hey, we  _ are _ here to help. Sorry for trying to lighten the mood a bit.” 

Marinette took a deep breath. “Thank you. But it’s not really helping, Dick.” She wasn’t sure where the anger was coming from, but she kept her eyes on Jason instead of meeting Dick’s. “I’m going to head back down.” She excused herself quickly, walking back to the library at a pace a bit too quick to convince herself that she wasn’t running from something.

  
  
  
  


“You must be Marinette.” 

Marinette was getting very tired of being interrupted at her research. Dick, twice more since that first time, Damian once, though he had actually dragged her out to visit Titus again with him, which was fun, and Tim, who had stopped by several times with promising information and scrolls to help her. He might be her favorite, of these higher gods that she’d found herself saddled with. 

_ Except for Jason _ , a little voice in her head reminded her, and she fought down a blush even as she looked up at the newest person to bother her.

Only for her jaw to almost drop. Almost.

She knew of Chloé, of course, but had no idea why she would be  _ in the Underworld. _ The goddess of love was known for being incredibly aloof, as if in direct opposition to the force she governed.

“Yes?” She choked out in a strangled thin voice.

“Oh, good, you know me,” Chloé traipsed in, examining a shelf and picking up a scroll before putting it back, and then perching herself on the edge of the desk. “So, can you tell me why I came to visit my dear friend Jason, who I’ve been despairing over for years because he won’t let me help him find love, only to find that it was in  _ my absence _ that he went and got his heart all tangled up?”

“Pardon?!” Marinette practically screeched. “I don’t know-“

“You do,” Chloé cut her off, raising one delicate brow and looking down her nose at Marinette, who felt very, very small beneath it. “Goddess of love, Marinette. I can not only tell how he feels, but I can tell how  _ you _ feel, which is equally fascinating but less important,  _ and _ I can tell that you  _ know _ how he feels.”

“Does he…?” Marinette wheezed out, breath gone and knocked out of her by this whole conversation.

“No,” Chloé said flatly, examining her nails. “Which is why, Marinette, I came to see  _ you _ . You know you love him, and I assume it’s why you’re still here, now bound to the Underworld and throwing yourself into dusty papers to find something to help him. You know he loves you, because you aren’t stupid and Jason wears his heart on his sleeve for all that he likes to act as broody and stoic as Bruce. So why haven’t you done anything?”

Maybe it was the accusatory tone that helped her regather herself. “I don’t need to explain myself to you.”

“No,” Chloé gave her an odd look. “You don’t. But I figured you’d enjoy having somebody to talk about it with who isn’t Jason or his brothers. And failing that, I figured you’d need someone to kick you in the ass and make you talk about it, because so far, your modus operandi has been avoiding it until it goes away.”

Marinette managed to glare at her for all of another six seconds. “I don’t want this to be because he needs me to fix him.”

“It’s not,” Chloé said. “Take it from a professional. The man’s head over heels.”

Marinette winced. “I’d rather hear that from him, if it makes a difference.”

Chloé sighed. “Fine. I’ll stop. But really, why?”

The room felt too small. “I don’t know why. It just doesn’t feel right yet.”

The goddess slid dramatically into laying  _ across her desk _ , lightly crushing some of the scrolls. Not badly, but enough to irk her. “Boo, that’s what they all say. But far be it from me to force a girl into confronting her feelings.”

“That’s literally what you’re doing here,” Marinette grabbed the edge of a scroll and started extracting it. “Listen, are you actually here  _ for _ anything? Or just to whine at me about my feelings?”

“Definitely the whining,” Chloé hummed. “But I also wanted to meet you. Jason is my friend, you know, and I’d hardly let some common two bit goddess turn his head.”

“...thank you?” She finally got one free, and she smoothed the rumpled side before rolling it back. “If that’s all, I was in the middle of something.”

Chloé sat up, just as gracefully. “I’m sorry, do you  _ not _ appreciate my presence? I’m trying to help.”

“Go help on Jason’s end then,” Marinette rolled her eyes. “Meanwhile, I’ll make sure that there actually is a chance at future love, because I’ll be  _ saving his life _ .”

“Glad you’ve got the priorities straight,” Chloé hmphed. “Maybe I’ll go tell him how  _ you _ feel.” She started walking out. 

“Do me a favor and lie,” Marinette muttered as she left. 

The people Jason knew were crazy.

  
  
  
  


She’d found herself taking a break from the continuing dead ends, and Jason had cajoled her into helping with his paperwork, and she’d found herself… unable to say no to him. Which left her pouring over more scrolls, this time trying to figure out where the numbers in his soul accounting had gone wrong, leaving him with a soul missing from the Plains.

“You keep calling it a curse,” Jason said.

Marinette looked up from the scroll she’d been searching through. “Hmm? Yeah, the Pit Madness?”

“It’s not a curse.” Jason leaned forward. “It’s Pit Madness. Different shit, Buttercup.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Curse. One activated upon contact or interaction with, I assume, the Lazarus Pits. By your own measurement, it’s either time dependent, or low level with a trigger to speed up and finish the process of destroying your mind.”

“Curses are-“ he wiggled his fingers at her and she swatted them away. “Mumbo-jumbo spoken by witches over a cauldron on the full moon or, like, what happens when Damian stubs his toe and decides the nearest ship is an adequate target to take it out on.”

“Curses are one bad outcome tied to a few possible situations.” Marinette rolled the scroll back up. “You missed a guy two years ago. Who knew death fraud was a thing?”

“I did not,” Jason yanked the scroll back open, finding the section she’d circled. “Oh. Maybe I did.”

“Send somebody after him then,” Marinette stood up from her desk. “I’m going to go lay down. I’m suddenly not feeling well.”

His eyes were on her immediately. “You’re a goddess, you don’t get sick.”

“I get sick of you,” Marinette stuck her tongue out at him and he rolled his eyes, turning back to his papers. She walked out, having successfully rediverted his attention away from her. Her stomach was tight, the sudden nerves making her hands feel clammy as they clenched at her sides. 

She walked away from the sickly green roiling feeling of Jason, towards the larger pull, the one she’d caught him sleepwalking towards, the one she’d stayed far away from after finding it- him.

The hallway wall was as blank as ever, but she walked unerringly toward the next door, the empty room still as dusty, despite her footprints. The wall popped open again under her touch. 

She didn’t fall this time, climbing down the angled hole she’d unearthed last time. And soon she could see the glow of the Pit.

It wasn’t the Pit Jason had been flung into, she could tell. Different echoes, different anchors on his being. 

Adrien looked up from his contemplation of the reflective pool, grinning up at her with an almost feline smile. “You’ve returned.”

“What causes the Madness?” She demanded. “Jason’s right, this isn’t a curse. It’s the Pits. What happened?”

He frowned at her. “You don’t know?”

She shook her head, lips pressed tightly together. 

Adrien stood. “I suppose the gods and goddesses have their own stories they like to propagate. But if you find someone old enough, they can tell you the truth.”

“Is there a reason you can’t tell me?” She pushed, watching his expression. He looked- sad. 

Lonely.

He held out his hand again. She didn’t take it. 

“I could,” he said. “But it doesn’t mean anything until you know.”

She stepped back again. “Who’s old enough? To know?”

Adrien let his hand drop, shrugging. “Oh, a few of them. You’ll figure it out.” He looked back into the Pit. “Don’t come back until you know. It might not be dangerous for you here, but that doesn’t mean it’s  _ safe _ .”

She froze up, watching him step into the waters, watching how it seemed almost to rise to meet him. 

When she returned to the library in a haze, she started searching for old stories with the name Adrien, cursing herself for not wondering about him more last time.

And she found herself with a single scroll, telling a story she’d heard before about the arrogance of man, grasping for the power of the gods, and being struck down. 

  
  
  
  


“You wanted to see me again?” Chloé posed in her doorway, eyes sparkling. “Knew I could steal you from Jason. Told him so.”

“Actually,” Marinette said, rolling up the scroll she’d been looking through, “I was wondering if you would tell me a story. About- Adrien.”

She watched as Chloé’s face shifted from playful to abject pain, swiftly put aside for annoyance, her nose tilting up as she looked down upon her. “Pardon?”

“Adrien?” Marinette handed her the scroll, which Chloé didn’t even glance at. “The mortal Prince from the story?”

Chloé’s hand trembled, and Marinette almost missed it. “I don’t think you know what you’re asking.”

“I-“ Marinette hesitated. Chloé looked- bereft, underneath the haughty demeanor. “You’re right, I don’t. But I- I think I met him. And he advised me that the answers lay with the eldest of the gods, so…”

Chloe didn’t look at her, but she almost drifted in, closing the door behind her and settling on a chair. 

“You met him?” Chloé murmured, eyes distant.

“There’s- one of the Pits, under the castle.” Marinette practically whispered. “He was there.” 

She didn’t say anything else. Chloé sat, unfocused and lost. 

“Did you know,” she said finally, meeting Marinette’s gaze with a sudden fire in hers, “that there were things older than the world?”

Marinette stayed silent, sensing the pause in her voice. 

“I was there,” Chloé said, “when the Kwamis disappeared. The primordials, the things that exist now as- concepts. I’m the goddess of love, Marinette, just as you’re the goddess of spring, but I’m  _ not _ love. You  _ aren’t  _ spring. They were the fullest realization of their ideas. Transformation, Subjection, Illusion.” She turned away again. “Creation and Destruction. They were what created the universe that we simply play in; and the Lazarus Pits are… to put it simply, the oldest things in this world. The waters of life. Creation  _ and _ Destruction.

“And they were content to have created everything, and to step back and allow what came next- Ra’s and the Titans, and then Bruce, and us gods. Though,” her lips quirked up, “I might actually be a titan, under those timelines.

“And they’ve stayed gone?” Marinette urges her, unable to stop herself. She felt- spellbound, under Chloé’s voice.

“Until Adrien. Until his father.” Chloé grimaced. “Gabriel, as I’m sure this scroll told you, was the King of a small kingdom, and I was- beloved. It was refreshing, to find a mortal who seemed so enthralled with love, but not with me. I blessed him by leading Emilie into his life, and they were-“

She sighed, softly, a light smile finally lighting up her face. “They were the most perfect love I ever brought about. And when they had a son, I spent time with him as well. Adrien was-  _ is _ , my friend. My best friend.

“And then- Emilie passed away. And Gabriel couldn’t bear it. I couldn’t return her, and Jason denied his pleas- as he should have. Death is, above all, fair. But Gabriel couldn’t let her go. And he delved for power, to bring her back himself.

“He found them somehow. The Kwamis. Tikki and Plagg, Creation and Destruction. And he attempted to wield their power to rewrite the world. To have Emilie back in his arms again. He couldn’t see that he was destroying everything else he held dear- his kingdom, his son. He just saw the chance, and he took it.”

Chloé looked at her again, eyes intense and holding. “The gods had to smite him down, of course. And they took the whole palace with him. Adrien- I thought- was gone. And the kwamis that created and balanced the world… I couldn’t feel them anymore either.”

“Adrien called himself the god of the pits,” Marinette breathed, stunned. 

“I thought so, after a while,” Chloé nodded. “I searched for him here- it was how I became friends with Jason. Gabriel is still in Tartarus, of course. I wouldn’t suggest seeking him out. But Adrien… I knew something must have happened, and that something was becoming god of the Lazarus Pits, apparently. Fuck Gabriel.”

“And somehow, I’m immune. Or- resistant?” Marinette frowned. 

Chloé stood up, leaving the still unopened scroll sitting on the desk. “I need to- collect myself. I hope this helps.” She walked out quickly and Marinette almost stopped her as she saw the slight shake of her shoulders, but she understood that some things weren’t to be shared. 

She collapsed back into her chair, drained and more confused than ever.

If Adrien was the god of that place, why would she be connected to it? Why could she feel it even now, curling against her awareness? 

She thought of the mural, stone carved and now undeniably tragic, of the couple that hid the tunnel to the pit. Tikki and Plagg, she thought, now both unmade because of one hurt human. And however Jason had been left with the Pit Madness, which he still refused to explain, it wasn’t because of the Pits themselves, she was entirely certain. It was something to do with them. With Adrien.

And with her, she realized, hands stilling on the edge of the desk. If something had unbalanced the Pits and that was what was causing the Madness, then there was something in  _ her _ that balanced it. She lifted a hand gently and touched her own face, before standing and walking out of the room, dazed.

The gardens. She needed to be around-

Creation.

She didn’t gasp or stop or even change expression. The pieces fell into place in her mind with a dizzying  _ rightness _ .

The Destruction of the palace had left its mark not on the world or on the gods or on the pits, but on Adrien. Adrien, who became Destruction in the echo of the Kwamis being unmade. 

And it had been a thousand years since then, but- she was almost a millennia old. Her mother had retreated from the pantheon after the violence of the fight against Ra’s, and then Talia, putting aside her domain of strategy and victory. Had met Thomas Dupain and had her, born from a goddess and a human but still fully divine, unlike the demigods of story.

She continued through the garden, past it, to the balconies. And with a thought, she found herself for the first time in almost two months in open air.

She took a startlingly deep breath, relishing in the cool freshness of it, letting the gentle moonlight settle on her skin. She had missed it. She had given it up for six months a year, and though she needed this right now, she could feel the tug of it already, trying to draw her home. 

The flower was still there, blooming, though the season had started to turn to fall, and she smiled at it before looking around. 

“Maman,” she called softly, seeking her, sensing her. Already there.

“Marinette,” her mother stepped out from the trees, eyes bright and wide and sad. “I thought you had claimed a new home. What need do you have for this place?” The words were tinged with bitterness, and Marinette couldn’t blame her, but she also couldn’t let that be why she was here. 

“I needed you.” She said. “I need to know why you’ve never told me why I am a goddess.”

“You are my daughter,” Sabine tilted her head, seeming thrown by the question. “Is that not enough?”

“And all the other demigods, born of a god and a mortal?” Marinette laughed. “Why am I any different?”

Her mother changed in front of her, standing straighter. “If you’re asking, I think you already know.”

“I’m not the goddess of springtime.” Marinette breathed out. “I’m the goddess of Creation. And you kept it from me, from everyone, because you were scared that it would tie me to the Pits that you fought Ra’s and Talia over.”

Sabine didn’t speak, only gave her a simple nod, but it was enough. Marinette lowered herself to sit on the ground, her legs suddenly weak and wobbly. 

“I didn’t know Jason had fallen in,” Sabine said gently, lowering herself beside her. “I didn’t know I was already pregnant. I didn’t know so much. But I helped him out of the pool, and somehow, he wound up cursed, and you wound up a goddess.” Her lips twisted, bittersweet smile staining her face with regret. “Of course, I didn’t question it. I already knew Tom would never become a god. He didn’t want to. I got to keep  _ you _ . How could I ever question it?”

Marinette leaned into her mother’s side, finding the comfort she once had, nestled up with her. “I don’t know if I’ll survive.”

Her mother’s arm tightened around her shoulders, but she did not answer.

“I’ve got to balance the Pits,” Marinette continued, voice soft. “If I was given Creation, then- I have to give it back, don't I? And that will- it will help Adrien, who’s been shouldering them alone this whole time. It will heal Jason. I know it will.”

“Then go.” Sabine whispered. “I chose your father and you over the whole Pantheon. I cannot hold it against you that you do the same.”

Marinette let her tears go, and her mother held her through them, the same anguish in both of their faces.

  
  
  
  


“I need you both to come with me.”

She’d gathered herself and left her mother with a kiss goodbye, and brought herself back to the Underworld with less than a thought, finding a composed Chloé in the midst of leaving and Jason waving her off. Her revelation had taken even less time than she thought, but she was grateful; if Chloé came with them, and she didn’t survive, then Jason would have her there, to help him. 

“Excuse me?” Chloé sniffed, and she caught Jason stifling laughter at his friend’s indignation.

“I know how to fix the Pit Madness,” Marinette said firmly, watching them both still and then start talking, loudly, at the same time.

“You know how to  _ what _ -“ Jason exclaimed, as Chloé practically screeched, “How LONG, Marinette?”

She shushed them both. “Listen, it’s hard to explain. Can you both just- trust me?” 

Jason met her eyes. “Of course.”

“Fine,” Chloé huffed. “And what do we have to trust you about?”

Marinette took a steadying breath. “There’s a small Lazarus Pit under the palace and we need to go there.” 

She waited. Watched their eyes go wide. 

“There’s a PIT-?”

“You’re DRAGGING us to-“

“YES,” She ground out, frustrated. Can you just follow me?” She stalked off without an answer, but she heard them both behind her anyway. They stayed silent as she made her way down to the room.

“This is-“ Jason said, voice low, “where I kept sleepwalking to.”

“You slept walked?” Chloé said, derision obvious in her voice. 

“Wouldn’t it be sleepwalked?” Jason countered.

“Here,” Marinette said, heart pounding as she entered the room, seeking out the buttons immediately. Jason and Chloé fell silent as the tree door popped open, the faint smell of bitter must wafting out.

And almost as if in response, she felt the green energy beside her, inside Jason,  _ flare _ .

She spun, shoving Chloé away before her thoughts became coherent. In the same motion she reached for Jason, trying to hold onto some part of him but he was faster, and he was in the tunnel before she could wrap her hand around his.

“Shit,” Chloé hissed, but Marinette ignored her already diving into the dark cave. She tore through faster than usual, ignoring the rocks that struck against her shins, drawing blood, the way her hands scraped against the walls when she couldn’t quite see them. He wasn’t as fast as her here, he was bigger and having more trouble- she reached out a hand, knowing she was an inch from him-

They tumbled, one sprawling mass of limbs, down the passage. She closed her eyes tight against the fall, grabbing him and not letting go until they’d stopped their rough roll at the bottom.

She cracked one eye and saw the hazy green. He must have too.

“You know,” his voice shocked her into looking down at him, his eyes almost greener than the pool. “If you wanted me to fall for you, you didn’t have to drag me down  _ here _ .”

“Can’t you- just this once-“ Marinette breathed out, voice trembling. “Can you not joke about it? Please?”

“C’mon, Buttercup,” Jason grinned up at her, the green fading from his eyes as he spoke, his head cradled in her lap. “Would you even like me if I wasn’t constantly being sarcastic?”

She giggled helplessly, twining her fingers deeply through his hair, watching his eyes fall closed as he leaned into the touch. “I don’t like you anyway.”

“Jeez, straight for the heart, huh?” He didn’t even open his eyes, a soft smile drifting over his face. 

“Not that this isn’t literally exactly my shit,” Chloé hissed, her voice coming from above as she skidded slightly more gracefully down the rockslide. “But shouldn’t this like, happen some other time? Preferably when I am not standing in a cave with one of the only things that can hurt a god.”

All three of them turned towards the Pit, which burbled merrily almost as if in welcome. Marinette drew her hand away from Jason, only to bring it back at the sight of green creeping into his vision.

“Back so soon?” Adrien almost materialized beside her, slinking from the shadows like a black cat in the night. “That didn’t take anywhere near as long as I thought.”

“Adrien?” Chloé’s voice broke as she saw him, her hand stretching out almost unconsciously.

He scrambled away from her touch, equally shocked. “Chloé?” And just as instantly he turned back to Marinette. “How could you  _ bring _ her here? How could you!?”

“She’s not in any danger.” Marinette said calmly. She watched, feeling almost detached, one hand still drifting through Jason’s hair. “I’ve figured it out, actually. I just thought you might like to see her.”

He glared at her, looking wild. “I’ve got a touch that can drive gods to madness. No, I did  _ not _ want to see her, or I would have done it in the last thousand years!”

Chloé’s face was turning dangerously pale, her hands clenched into fists. “You stayed away because you didn’t want to accidentally touch me and give me Pit Madness?” 

“Yes!” He cries out, as if thankful someone understood the gravity of it. And then a rock hit him in the head.

“You idiot!” Chloé shrieked, another rock already in her hand. This one missed, sailing past his shoulder. “What, like you can’t wear  _ gloves _ ? Like you can’t just explain,  _ hey, Chlo, don’t hug me or I might drive you crazy _ \- you moron!”

The next rock Marinette snatched from her before she could throw. “Alright, enough.”

Chloé glared down at her. Adrien glared at Chloé. Jason looked up at her, and she found the words stuck in her throat.

“It was rude of you to do this to them,” Adrien said finally. “If you know what we have to do-“

“Jason needs to be here, to be healed,” Marinette said, easily, like instructions. She guessed they were, for Chloé. “I couldn’t trust that it would have happened properly otherwise.”

The words sank into Chloé and Jason. Chloé, who’s gaze swiveled between her and Adrien with quickly dawning horror, and Jason, who blinked up at her, confused. “Why not? You’d just push me around until I did it your way-“

“They’re not going to survive.” Chloé said, stricken. “Marinette, I’m not sure what you think you have to do, but I’m sure there’s has to be another way-“

“There’s not,” Adrien sighed. “When my father was killed, Creation and Destruction had to be reborn. The Pits lost their tether to the world through them. I became Destruction. Marinette-“

“Creation,” Jason breathed, sitting up, letting Marinette’s hands fall from carding through his hair to resting against his in their laps. “But-“

“We have to give them back,” She said softly, not meeting his eyes. “The Pits need Creation and Destruction to heal, and- Adrien was born mortal. I should’ve been born a demigod. Neither of us was supposed to make it quite this long.”

He gripped her hands. “I won’t let you. I’ll be fine, I’ll just-“

“No.” She shut him down, a tremulous smile on her face. “Jason. This is me, choosing you.”

She didn’t let the words sink in, running before he could respond or his hands could tighten around hers, and Adrien met her at the edge, his hand outstretched, and they fell in together.

  
  
  
  


Green. 

Green was everywhere. Green like springy grass between her toes, the leaves on sweet ripe fruits, green like green like green like- like-

Adrien. She became slightly aware of the hand in hers, of the way that it felt  _ right, _ the two of them two halves of a whole, both of them slowly losing themselves, leeching out into the green.

Green. Green was everywhere, she thought of the Pits. She’d been- researching them, right? Why? What did any of the whys and wherefores matter when she was so utterly surrounded by it, encased in green, like- like-

She surfaced, gasping and spluttering out choking liquid, her lungs burning as she stared into Jason’s eyes. 

Jason’s blue eyes, even though he was just as soaked in the slick shining water as her.

“Marinette-“ he coughed, and she could hear, distantly, Chloé’s own shrill tones already berating Adrien but she could only focus on Jason, in front of her, his eyes so very, very blue.

“I’m alive?” She marveled, voice hoarse but she didn’t care, she pushed the air out anyway, needing to confirm.”

“Yes, no thanks to your own bullheadedness,” he glared down, but she could see, the way she always could, down to the concern and relief that he couldn’t hide under the anger. “You know, I think I’m going to have to start arguing back now, when people call me an idiot, because I have never seen anyone do something so  _ utterly _ stupid.”

“I guess we’re a pretty good match then,” she grinned weakly, and he grinned back at her, and she really couldn’t stop herself from pulling him down to kiss her.

“You didn’t even- FINALLY!” Chloé screeched, and Marinette was already drawing back but Jason just flipped Chloé off and kissed her again, softly, as if trying to tell her without words how relieved he was that she was there.

“Gross,” Adrien groaned. “Hey Chloé, maybe we should leave?”

“Oh no,” she glared, and Marinette did draw back this time, burying herself against Jason’s shoulder, letting herself be held. “These two are disasters, if we leave them here they’ll actually just stay down here, and I am NOT letting their heartfelt emotional talk happen five feet from the death pool.”

“It’s not dangerous like that anymore,” Marinette replied, her voice muffled. “We fixed it.”

“And I think we’re still gods?” Adrien said, almost a question. “Like, we didn’t crumble into dust or anything, and I definitely don’t feel like I did when I was mortal…”

“Yes, yes, we’re all fine, the Pits aren’t actively killing anyone,” Chloé wrung out her hair. “But I’m still not letting them talk until we’re no longer  _ here _ .”

Jason shrugged and Marinette laughed as he picked her up. “I don’t think the tunnel is gonna be that accommodating.”

She swung out of his hold, and grabbed his hand instead. Adrien and Chloé were already turning away, toward the rockslide that led up. 

“Wanna know something?” She asked, and Jason raised an eyebrow. 

She moved them back to the palace with a thought. “We’re gods. I have no idea why I didn’t just take us there like that in the first place.”

“Oh, ha  _ ha _ ,” Chloé mocked, appearing beside them, Adrien beside her. “I’m leaving. Screw you both. Live happily ever after, or whatever.” She popped both herself and Adrien away, with barely enough time for him to wave.

Which left Marinette with Jason, who was holding her hand and looking at her.

“So, just to be clear, I love you,” Marinette said, because she felt that it needed to be said. “I think I’ve been in love with you this whole time, almost.”

“I’ve got you beat,” Jason said, holding up her hand to his mouth and kissing it, hiding a grin behind it. “Because I’ve definitely been in love with you this whole time, no almost.”

“Good thing you’re stuck with me then,” Marinette curled back into his arms, lifting her face up to his as he lowered their hands. “Think that’s heartfelt and emotional enough for Chloé?”

“It’ll have to do,” he laughed, before leaning down and kissing her again.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to put some dedicated thanks here, specifically to @polyvirnl on tumblr who requested this, and of course ALL of the people on the Maribat Discord, but specifically feral-angel-starry, Apple's apparently an enabler, coffee addict, and all the various people who had to sit through the various stages of me yelling about what a pain in my ass this fic was.
> 
> For those curious, my literal list of who's the god of what went like this:  
> Marinette-springtime/Creation  
> Jason-death and the Underworld  
> Dick-storms and the sky  
> Tim-the winds  
> Damian-the ocean  
> Sabine-strategy and bountiful victory, which changed into bountiful harvests  
> Bruce-I really don't know but he's still King of the gods basically.  
> Adrien-Destruction  
> Alya and Nino-the sun and moon respectively!  
> Chloe-love (and rage) ((love that girl))


End file.
